Beyond the Window/In Silence
Two poems by Kay Bell
Beyond the Window
after Salvador Dali’s Figure at a Window
Beyond the window
where the water brings
the handsome things
a song overrides the wreck
I listen
for where the day meets sunrise
and a lovers’ quarrel can be heard
across the bay
in a small kitchen lit with soft white light
I listen
for a Wednesday paradox;
an old man whistling hola
in a goodbye boat
I listen
to the hum of raggedy curtains
blue with truth
and a dish towel set aside
to wipe away my dread
I listen
to what I have refined within a woman;
the wind against my youth
groves of uttering shrubs
fields of sky;
tattered leather flats
a whole wide world
cast-away
and these cabin fever hips
that soon again will dance
In Silence
every place I’ve been hurts
and each year is symmetrical to the face in the mirror
and each room is filled with gravel breathing
and each woman is more whole than me
and each time I choose to live I am a phantom sound
resting against my father
and each body I have borrowed quakes
and each pair of hands bears bite marks
and each page is a box with a theory written in blood
and each song is a wound is a creature is a riot is me with balled fists
and each hour ends in the dirt face down
and each minute of solitude is animal is my body of rust slaughtered
near the edge unseen
like chalk on a sidewalk washed away by rain
Kay Bell is the author of the poetry chapbook, Cry Sweat Bleed Write (Lily Poetry Review Books, 2020). She received her MFA from The City College of New York where she was the 2015 recipient of the Esther Unger Poetry Prize, and the 2018 co-recipient of the David Dortort Prize in Creative Writing for Non-Fiction. Kay lives in the Bronx and considers herself a bibliophile. @iamkaybell